At Dawn They Sleep
by Ceasefire
Summary: [HavocRoy, series spoilers] Ultimately, the relationship between that of a commander and that of a subordinate was one of a domino effect, and it amazed Jean how much this mentality had worked its way into their lives.


And so, the band plays and we march on! I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

With every new morning came the same routine; Roy would wake a half-hour earlier than Jean and try his very best not to wake him up while he hurried around his apartment, gathering the pieces of the uniform he'd discarded haphazardly the night before on the way to the bedroom. Havoc would wake up late, and Roy would let him because Jean waking up to look at the clock, realizing he was ten minutes late and rushing past Roy to the bathroom to shower was just another part of the routine.

_"Why didn't you wake me up?"_ Havoc would shout over the sound of the shower running.

_"So I can blame my running late on your running late,"_ Roy would shout back, partially muffled by the piece of toast he was hurrying to finish before getting in the car.

About the time Roy was sitting at the table doing up his boots, Havoc would rush from the bathroom with a towel hanging low on his waist, leaving puddles in the shape of his footfalls as he skidded into the bedroom to find his uniform.

_"Make sure you don't fall on your way back out,"_ Roy would call after him, shrugging his greatcoat onto his shoulders; Havoc would come out of the bedroom with his socks on but no shoes, with his uniform coat unbuttoned and hair hurriedly brushed (not that this made much of a difference to the state of his hair) and slip on the water he left in the hallway but never actually fall. Roy would wait while Jean slipped into his boots without bothering to lace them, and once they'd both assumed their soldierly demeanour, they left. Once the lock clicked closed on the door of Roy's apartment they were the Colonel and his loyal Second Lieutenant, not Roy and his lover Jean... not that they made the latter part of that information known to a great deal of people.

It was routine; soldiers stuck to it like glue, and they liked it that way. Roy hated anything that he couldn't account for or prepare for to happen, and when they were in the workplace, anything that displeased or unsettled Mustang generally had an effect on Havoc. Ultimately, the relationship between that of a commander and that of a subordinate was one of a domino effect, and it amazed Jean how much this mentality had worked its way into their relationship, whether professional or personal.

It affected them all when something broke the routine, and on one clear night fate had decided to make its move.

* * *

That day, their morning routine was broken. Both of them woke up far too late to make it to the office in time but neither of them cared because they'd been up far too late the night before. When Jean woke, Roy was laying facing away from him and he couldn't readily tell whether the man was awake or asleep, so in place of verbal affection he simply slipped his arms around Roy and held him, and the sigh Havoc got in response was the only thing that told him his lover was awake. They stayed like that until midmorning, and Havoc found his voice sounded strangely unlike his own as he told Roy it was time to leave.

On this morning, Roy barely needed to move to find the uniform he'd left at the foot of the bed the night before, and Havoc helped him find the formal parts of the uniform he'd not worn since the days of the Ishvar War. He tried to make Roy wear the medals he'd earned in the service of the State, but the older man refused and tugged his uniform hat down further over bloodshot eyes. Havoc barely had time to dress himself after helping Roy, but Roy wasn't waiting for him at the door as per usual and Jean had to rush through the apartment looking for him. He eventually found him in the study, nursing a glass of bourbon that was already half-empty. Taking it gently from Roy's loose grip, he tipped it roughly back into the bottle with shaking hands and slipped his arm around Roy's waist, guided him to the door, not caring for the first time who saw them or who spoke ill.

Lieutenant Colonel Hughes had died, and that by itself was enough to merit his care. The domino effect had taken a soldier who would never again rise. He was one of the kindest men Havoc had ever known. He had annoyed the Hell out of everyone at headquarters with pictures of his family, and the daughter who might not grow up to remember him. He was going to be sorely missed. This was the first time their morning routine was interrupted, and little did either of them know that it would get even more hectic as the days went on.

* * *

On another morning, a few months later, Havoc had been the first one to wake in a new apartment in Central that was gradually becoming home, in a room that was just beginning to become familiar to him once again after a few days in hospital. The thick bandage was no longer wrapped up and down the length of his arm, instead replaced with light gauze to stop any breakthrough bleeding from the wound on his hand. He went into the bathroom to shower, and was surprised to feel Roy's arms slipping around his waist, Roy's teeth lightly grazing the skin between his shoulder blades.

_"What are you doing, Boss?"_ Havoc gave a forced laugh and drew Roy's hand up to his lips to kiss.

_"I should get used to being you, don't you think?"_

Havoc was just towelling his hair dry when Roy presented him with the wig; dark, very fine, probably made out of real human hair. Mustang never neglected certainty for expense. Not exactly like his commander's, but close enough... you'd barely be able to tell once the hat was on, in fact. Perfect.

This morning, they were playing soldier before even getting in their uniforms.

_"Your face isn't as round as mine and your eyes aren't as dark, so keep your head down. You'll have to stop with the constant need for cigarettes for a while, too. Be careful, stay focused, and remain vigilant. We're going to pull this off."_

Jean saluted, and Roy helped him put the wig on, cursing the fact that not all of Havoc's unruly blond mop of hair seemed to fit under the thing. Once he'd poked and prodded it to his satisfaction, Roy leaned up and pressed a kiss against Jean's lips, breaking down the wall between lives both personal and professional.

_"You'll be on the train to the North at nine o'clock. I'll be at your doctor's appointment at ten. Good luck. I'll meet you at the top."_

Havoc nodded, and dressed self-consciously in front of Roy; they'd been together for nearly three years and yet he still felt the weight of the situation on his shoulders and this added to his nerves. On that day, Jean left the apartment for the first time in a long time without Roy beside him, and the last thing he remembered was seeing Mustang salute as he disappeared around the closing door.

Fiddling with the tight cufflinks on the dress shirt of Roy's that he'd borrowed, Havoc itched for a cigarette but refused to sate himself. The next few days would be what determined their futures; whether they would be waking up together forever after that, whether one of them would be waking up alone and defeated, or whether either of them would ever occupy the bed again.

* * *

The next time they woke up in the same bed, Jean found himself reflecting on just how lucky he was. He got up silently, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast, and even managed to do it without burning the water he used to boil the eggs. Once he'd made the best breakfast he could possibly manage (one that actually took time and care, because today neither of them had anywhere to rush to, and Jean found he liked that change), he divided it up onto two plates and took them both into the bedroom.

Roy was laying back on the pillows, looking ill and exhausted, but very much alert. His one good eye was watching Jean, and he was smiling. Perhaps the confident man with whom he'd fallen so utterly in love was gone forever after the coup, but with such change their relationship had found a step that it had been forced to overleap, and now they seemed to have reached the realm of something deeper, infinitely more passionate, certainly for the better.

Havoc put Mustang's plate down in his lap and then leaned over to kiss the top of his head, but Roy moved faster and looked upwards just in time to catch Jean's lips with his own. When they broke away, Roy looked at his lover with such passion that the blond felt colour rise to his cheeks.

_"I made breakfast,"_ Jean said, and then blushed again when he realized how stupid he sounded, but Roy simply laughed and kissed him softly.

_"I can see that," _Roy replied, voice yielding the barest hint of amusement.

They ate in silence, and it somehow felt strange to be living in such a state of domesticity after all they had been through, the way they had met, the circumstances under which they had formerly loved. It was strange, but not unpleasant. It was merely a matter of adjusting to change, and how they coped with such change that shaped the way they lived.

Roy reached over to hold Jean's hand, thumb running over the scarred flesh where he'd been injured. Jean looked at his lover, surprised, and Roy smiled so genuinely it almost made Jean's heart ache. For the first time in as long as they could remember, sitting in the apartment that had become theirs, imbued with a strange sense of knowing they'd found home, the two of them watched the dawn filter through the window and smiled.

With every new morning that came, things could only grow brighter.


End file.
